


Plait

by Mazarin221b



Series: Florentine [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: BDSM, Dom Katsuki Yuuri, Long-Haired Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Roleplay, Sub Victor Nikiforov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 07:52:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13736472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mazarin221b/pseuds/Mazarin221b
Summary: Victor, sitting on Yuuri’s bed, long platinum hair spilling over his shoulders and across something blue, something sparkly, something that looks remarkably like…“Oh my god it’s your second senior free skate costume,” Yuuri breathes. “And what did you do to your hair?”





	Plait

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by pensvsswords discussion about Victor with long hair in Demitri Aliev's FS costume. Then I got on board with some porny thoughts of long hair, and some twitter friends made some art and joined in. Aria (https://twitter.com/Alikurai/status/964995059849617413) and Chii (https://twitter.com/chiinoiserie/status/964658954839248897), you're amazing. 
> 
> Big thanks to Liz (her_nerdiness) again, for lightning fast beta.

Yuuri opens the door and tosses his keys on the table, where they slide across the wood and end up crashing to the floor in a cacophony of metal on marble. Victor still hasn’t gotten around to replacing Phichit’s Arita bowl after their enthusiastic reunion sex a few months ago, but Yuuri isn’t fussed. It was so completely worth it and Yuuri loses himself in the memory, drifting through the hall and into the kitchen, mentally reviewing what they might have around to make for dinner, when his phone buzzes in his pocket.

_ Victor 5:58pm _

_ I’m in your room. Come to me. _ __

Yuuri blinks in confusion. He’s here, in the house? He had a key, sure, but they’d made plans to meet up after dinner, not now, and certainly not here. Oh hell, he hadn’t even made his bed this morning, and he’s pretty sure there are dirty clothes on the floor. Yuuri darts through the house and up the long, twisting staircase to the second floor and bounds down the long hall until he reaches the door to his room.

It’s closed.

He takes a deep breath and slowly turns the knob and pushes the door open, the old brass hinges creaking under the weight of age. The room isn’t dark but it’s dim, and as Yuuri’s eyes adjust to the difference in light he gasps at what he sees.

Victor, sitting on Yuuri’s bed, long platinum hair spilling over his shoulders and across something blue, something sparkly, something that looks remarkably like…

“Oh my god it’s your second senior free skate costume,” Yuuri breathes. “And what did you do to your hair?”

Victor beams and twists the strands around his fingers. “Do you like it?”

Yuuri slowly walks over to the bed and stares, heart hammering in his chest. Victor, a vision lifted right out of his teenage fantasies, literally come to life right in front of his eyes.  He jerked off so many times to pictures of him looking just like this, long platinum hair swirling around his body as he moved, the cascade of blue feather-like accents across his chest catching the light as he twisted his body into complex and beautiful spins that left Yuuri breathless and aching. 

“Mrph,” Yuuri manages, and Victor laughs, bright and delighted, and shifts to his knees. He puts his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders and tilts his head slightly.

“I thought you might,” Victor purrs, and leans in to brush his lips across Yuuri’s mouth. Yuuri reacts instinctively, opening his mouth and nudging his lips against Victor’s, the heat of his breath kindling the flame of arousal in Yuuri’s body in the space of a heartbeat.

Yuuri reverently touches the outline of a single blue scale on his chest. It’s the real thing, Victor’s real costume, maybe a bit tighter than it had been when he was 17 but still beautiful and perfect. “How did you—”

“I had it sent. And a little bit of salon magic. I wanted to give you this, my darling Yuuri. You wanted me then, yes? When I was like this?” Victor gathers his hair and twists it over one shoulder and looks at Yuuri with wide, innocent blue eyes.

Yuuri has a brief moment of panic. He’s not going to lie and say he didn’t want him, but wasn’t their entire argument all those months ago about whether or not Yuuri still was obsessed over this version of Victor, the Victor he’d never met? If he gives in, is this a contradiction of everything he’d already said?

Victor leans forward and traces a finger over Yuuri’s jaw. “I saw your step sequence, Katsuki,” he says, voice low and playful. “It was so seductive. I thought I was going to get hard right before I had to skate.”

Oh  _ God _ . Yuuri dives forward and tackles Victor to the bed, hesitation be damned. Victor is giving him this and he’s sure as hell going to take it.

“You are so beautiful,” Yuuri says, and moans in satisfaction as he wraps his hand in that gorgeous, gorgeous hair and pulls Victor’s head back so he can suck a mark into Victor’s neck, right over his collar. “I thought I was going to come when I watched your triple toe with your arms over your head, fuck, Victor,” Yuuri pants.  Victor might be making shit up for this little game but Yuuri sure isn’t, memories of watching Victor in his second senior division showing at the Grand Prix fresh in his mind and making him dizzy with want. 

Victor maneuvers a knee in between Yuuri’s legs and pushes it against Yuuri’s cock. Yuuri grinds on it, trying to get at least a little relief from the arousal beating against his brain. He’s feeling overwhelmed, almost out of control, and he doesn’t want this to be over too soon because he didn’t have the strength to draw it out and make it last. He pulls back to rest on his heels and looks down, Victor’s hair splayed across the pillows and a flush high in his cheeks. 

Yuuri has to remember to  _ breathe _ .

“You didn’t even bother to change after your skate. You must really want it,” he says, and slips his shirt off over his head. 

Victor bites his lip, ever the flirt. “Really want  _ you _ , I think you mean.” He twists over between the vee of Yuuri’s thighs and presents his back, the black fabric of the bottom half of the bodysuit painting a sinful curve over his ass. “But I need a little help. Would you unzip me, please?” 

It’s possible Yuuri’s teeth leave imprints on this inside of his lips as he clamps his mouth shut to keep from whimpering.  _ Control, Katsuki. Control. _ He reaches for the tiny tab of the very fine zipper and tugs ever so slightly, the fabric parting and showing a strip of Victor’s creamy skin between the sides. Yuuri swallows and presses a soft kiss there, right between Victor’s shoulderblades.

“Oh,” Victor breathes. “That’s…ah. It gives me chills.”

Yuuri tugs the zipper down a little more, revealing the dip of his spine and the rise of his ass, and kisses him again, right between the dimples on his lower back, and tastes the skin there, salty-sweet. He can feel goosebumps rise at the smell of him, his warm skin and the faint chemical scent the spandex left. It’s a ghost of a memory, a post-skate locker room and the whiff of drycleaning fluid and sweat.

He pulls the zipper to the bottom, and realizes Victor isn’t wearing even a dance belt under his costume. The crease of his ass is visible right at the bottom of the parted fabric, and Yuuri starts to tremble.

“Let’s get this off of your shoulders,” he says, and can hear desire roughen his voice. “We don’t want to ruin it.”

Victor leans up on his elbows and gently tugs the costume down off of shoulders obviously much broader and stronger than they were when the outfit was made for him. “Okay,” he says. “Coach would probably kill me if I ruined it,” he says, and looks back over his shoulder to catch Yuuri’s eye and wink. 

“You could have mine,” Yuuri says, and wraps his arms around Victor’s now-bare torso and mouths kisses across the back of his shoulder and down his arm. “Might be a bit short in the arms, though.”

Victor giggles. He’s so sweet like this, still his Victor, still obviously the man he loves, wearing his devotion in a still-healing mark from an enthusiastic caning session just a few days prior. But something more than that, too – something precious and rare, a glimpse of the man Yuuri worked so hard to chase, someone he looked up to and admired, someone he fantasized about in the deep of the night when he was alone and struggling to cope. 

God, how he loves him.  But as fun as this is, and as much as the play hits him deep in the heart, he still is who he is, and grasps a handful of Victor’s long, silky hair, wraps it around his fist, and tugs Victor’s head back until Victor gasps a moan. Yuuri presses his still-covered cock against Victor’s ass and leans close to his ear.

“I want to fuck you, Vitya,” Yuuri whispers. “I want to pull that costume right over your hips and fuck that pretty ass of yours. Can I do that?” 

Victor nods. “Yes,” he pants. “God yes, Yuuri. Would you have, then? Would you have bent me over a locker room bench and taken me like this?”

Yuuri barks a laugh. “Never in a million years. So it’s good I met you now, isn’t it?” Yuuri unbuckles and unbuttons and shoves his jeans and underwear down over his hips until he can run the head of his cock up and down the crack of Victor’s ass. His skin is warm and hot, and if he knows his beauty, he’s prepared himself for exactly this scenario.  Yuuri lets go of his hold on Victor’s hair and leans over to snag the lube from the table where Victor obviously put it beforehand.  He slicks himself up quickly as Victor looks over his shoulder, watching.

“You might not have approached me but I certainly would have approached you,” Victor says quietly. “Just looking at you like this turns me on. Watching you work, watching you skate, hell, watching you wash your hair. You’re so gorgeous, my Yuuri. I would have wanted you any time, in any life.”

Yuuri is helpless against the tide of emotion that threatens to overwhelm him, the love that fills his heart and overflows until it fills every part of him, every single aspect of his life brighter and better now that Victor is in it. Yuuri places a reverent hand against Victor’s spine, low on his back. “I love you,” he whispers. 

“I love you too. Now, I think you had something you wanted to do?” Victor wiggles his hips and Yuuri can feel his flagging erection come back fully. He could just lean forward, press between those sweet curves until he’s buried in Victor’s body to the hilt, ride him hard with a hand twisted in those silver strands. But he wants more, wants Victor to show him what he meant, to just this once live the fantasy that Victor really would have wanted him then.  

“Ride me,” he murmurs. “Hard. Show me, Victor. Please?”

Victor nods and slips out from between Yuuri’s knees. He peels the costume the rest of the way off, a slow striptease he performs with a smirk as Yuuri tries to both watch and get out of his own pants.  He finally succeeds and lies back against the pillows, watching avidly as Victor tosses his hair back over his shoulders and gracefully climbs over Yuuri’s lap to pause, Yuuri’s cock pressed against his hole but not yet breaching his body.

“I’d have pursued you until you couldn’t help but want me,” Victor says breathlessly, as he begins to slide down. Yuuri gasps at the first touch of the heat of his body, but holds himself still, waiting for Victor to stretch himself until he’s comfortable. “I’d have talked to you every day. I’d have worn the tightest clothes I had so you’d notice my body. I’d have – oh – “ Victor lifts himself up slightly and then rolls his hips, pushing down until he takes almost all of Yuuri’s cock, hair shifting and swaying over his chest and tickling Yuuri’s hands where they’re gripping Victor’s hips. 

Yuuri’s body is almost vibrating. “I’d have never survived it. Oh, I need – oh god Victor, please, I need –” he says, and thrusts up under Victor’s body, burying himself as far as he’s able.

Victor leans forward on his hands and rocks on Yuuri’s cock, his hair slipping over his shoulders to hang in a silvery curtain around their heads and creating a soft, quiet, intimate space. Victor’s face is slack with pleasure, his mouth slightly open as he sighs and moans, his body rising and falling with every flex of his thighs. Yuuri is absolutely fascinated to see him like this, a vision of a younger man that is slightly familiar but still himself. 

“God you feel good,” Victor gasps, “I never can get enough of you.”

Yuuri lifts his hips to meet him, the curl of an orgasm burning low in his belly and warming him to the tips of his fingers. He could hold out longer, really drag this out but he doesn’t want to, wants to feel Victor overwhelm him without even the slightest hint of restraint. He wraps a fist hard around Victor’s cock, just as he likes it, and begins to stroke.

Victor straightens with a sharp intake of breath, his head tipped back, back arched, long hair tickling the tops of Yuuri’s thighs. He’s speeds up the movement of his body, Yuuri meeting him thrust for thrust, their bodies moving with the synchronicity they’ve built over the duration of their relationship.

Victor breaks first, his body bowing even more as Yuuri strokes him in time with his rocking thrusts, come spurting over Yuuri’s stomach and chest, slicking his fist. The lewd sound of his hand still moving on Victor’s cock and Victor’s panting moans fill his ears and he’s there, his orgasm a flashfire raking over his body, trembling uncontrollably between the sweet vise of Victor’s thighs. 

Victor collapses on Yuuri’s chest, breath harsh in Yuuri’s ear. “You’re amazing, Yuuri Katsuki,” Victor mumbles. 

Yuuri chuckles and drags his fingers through Victor’s astonishingly long hair. “How did you do this? Extensions?”

“Mmmhmmm. Took a few hours yesterday, but worth it.”

“Does it feel like it did when you had long hair for real?” Yuuri asks.

Victor peels himself away from Yuuri’s sticky chest and reaches for a towel he’d stashed on the floor. He wipes down his own body then Yuuri’s, and Yuuri wonders if he is going to answer. 

He lies down next to Yuuri on the bed, settling shoulder to shoulder. “I never had sex with long hair,” Victor says, finally, and Yuuri’s heart beats hard in his throat. “I know that’s not exactly what you were asking, but while its familiar, it’s not. Other than a few blowjobs and handjobs, I’d never gotten naked, in a bed, and had mindblowing sex with someone while I had long hair like this. Just with you.”

Yuuri swallows carefully, then draws Victor in for a kiss. “I’m…surprised, and I’m…I’m honored. And sort of blown away.” Yuuri threads his fingers through Victor’s and holds them up between them. “But I want you to know that while this is fun, I don’t regret the past, not at all. I can’t imagine what it would have been like to have met you back then, when we were both so young and so, so naïve. And while I loved today—and I really, really loved it—I much prefer you just as you are, my beauty. My own Victor.”

Victor smiles shyly then pulls his hair over his shoulder and starts to braid it, Yuuri watching in fascination as the plait reaches to his waist. “This should last about six weeks, before the extensions lose hold and need to be removed. So, you know,” he says, and places the tail of the braid in Yuuri’s hand. “I think we’ve got some time to try some things out, before then.”

Yuuri smiles and kisses Victor’s shoulder and gives the braid a playful tug. “Then let’s see what we can come up with, shall we, skater Nikiforov?

Victor grins. “I think we should, skater Katsuki.”

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
